Innocent Massacre
by The Grey Phantom
Summary: I tried to make them both understand. They stood there and called me a monster. Me, the monster? As if they knew the meaning of the word." Sam desperately needs to find his brother, God himself betrays Sam, and Dean is the only one left for Sam. Dark!Sam
1. Hemorrhage In My Hands

**A/N: This idea started when I listened to Emiliana Torrini's "Gollum's Song" (which, by the way, isn't mine) and I decided I just _had_ to write a Dark!Sam story. I'm still sort of new at this particular category of fanfiction, but we'll see how decent it turns out, eh?**

**Disclaimer: My Christmas and my birthday have both passed within three weeks of each other and I still have not received any large packages that may or may not contain the entire cult-level television show known as Supernatural, so it still doesn't belong to me... Though Dean and Sam would probably be very grateful for that if they had any idea what I plan for them without the help of big-wig Hollywood producers...  
**

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_Innocent Massacre_

by The Grey Phantom

I walk through the night as the screams of men and women fill the air. If _he_ were here, he would be so disappointed. The stench of decay meets my nostrils; it has become almost natural to my senses, the scent of the hundreds of corpses surrounding me. If _he_, the other one, was here, he would not have had even a second thought about killing me.

The corpses of the innocent; fathers, mothers, sons, daughters, sisters, and brothers, littered the side walks. The storm drains ran crimson with blood and as the blank eyes of the dead looked up, silently asking me, "why?" All but the children were annihilated in this once great city.

Lilith said the children had potential. From the beginning of her onslaught on the world, Lilith had taught them to spy on their families, betray their friends, to murder each other. She set up miniature slaughter academies where children were rewarded for the deaths they got away with.

Families had started to go into hiding, attempting to escape the destruction, but the corruption brought on by desperation and anarchy had already set in, the backstabbing and throat-slitting started out small but increased to a size that disturbed the thousands of demons that brought in the destruction of the old, and ushered in the new world order.

"New world order"_,_ ha, that was a joke, all that was left now was chaos, but they deserved it, every single one of them. They may call _me_ the traitor to my own kind, but really, it was them, the _full-blooded_ humans, they brought it upon themselves.

World leaders had tried to stop the colossal swelling in murders and destruction. And they failed miserably, attempting to blame other countries for their own weakness. They never realized how hopeless survival truly was. The funniest was when they tried to bargain; bargain for their countries, then their families, and eventually, for themselves. Didn't they understand? The demons already had what they wanted, freedom. Freedom from Hell.

None of them mattered though. The only people who mattered were the men and women left in the hunting community. With the collapse of real civilization, only the hunters had any idea what was happening, only _they_ knew how to combat the monsters running rampant through the world. Only the hunters could keep fighting the hopeless crusade. It was ironic, really, how so many of these people dedicated their lives to destroying the evil and supernatural, to hunting, and now _they_ were now the hunted. But they deserved it too. They may be the only thing left to care about now, but they all had it coming to them for years.

No—that wasn't true, Dean never deserved it.

Maybe it was the never the hunters that mattered, maybe it had just been the _hunter_. The hunters say that I fell, and I tried to make them see reason, make them realize how badly the world needed this, this cleansing, but they were just sanctimonious fanatical pricks, or maybe that was the angels. I tried to make them both understand. They stood there and called me a monster.

_Me_, the monster? As if they knew the meaning of the word.

They wouldn't listen to me, and that made me realize something, just how hopeless _their_ cause was.

Dean, Dean would listen, I know he would. He always listened. But they wouldn't tell me where I could find him. I remember Bobby's words, the last time I saw him. "Let him be, boy," he said, tears glistening in his eyes, Ellen and Jo watching hesitantly behind him, "it'll break his heart to see ya' like this."

Didn't he understand? Dean needed me; I needed Dean. But then Castiel had to show up. I was just going to let Bobby, Ellen, and Jo, go, but Castiel made them choose, humanity (or what was left of it) or me.

I was disappointed I had to kill. People say it's impossible to kill an angel, but its not. You just have to know where to apply the right pressure. Angels are obsessive hypocrites. Their self-righteous fury at demons for being what they are was just ridiculous. Didn't they see that they were exactly the same? They may be different colors of smoke, with leaders on opposing sides, but they were the same parasite, controlling someone else's meat-suit.

I pulled Castiel right out of his flesh-bag. I did it the same way I used to exorcize demons. Shock flitted across his face, but it didn't last long. Soon the brilliant white smoke was being choked out of Castiel's mouth. When the angel no longer had any hold on the body it inhabited, the bright blue eyes dulled to the same gray color the sky had adopted since humanity's grand fall.

I used to thrust a demon's soul through the ground and back into the deep, dark, confines of Hell. It may have been fitting had I done the same to the angel before me. Instead of bunching my hand into a fist and lowering it to the ground, I flexed my fingers, forcing the smoke that was an Angel of the Lord to convulse as it coalesced into a small swirling mass. The smoke continued to spasm until I closed my fist, I was done. Castiel's vaporous form seemed to collapse in on itself before winking out of existence with a flash that knocked everything in the room back against the walls with a whoosh, everything but me.

Stacks of books, lamps, chairs, tables—everything was thrown against the walls of Bobby's living room. It was unfortunate, really, that Jo thought I was a threat, that I was going to hurt her—but who could blame her? I did come near to it once—she was holding a knife, the demon killing knife, behind her back. When she was thrown against the wall the knife was plunged into the small of her back.

I bet they could have saved her, but they were hunters, they sought vengeance and their own twisted version of justice, first, and saved lives later. They were all the same. Jo was slowly bleeding out with Ellen crying by her crumpled frame. Bobby was trying to circle behind me to reach the gun lying a few feet from me, the Colt.

I could have helped them, probably could have saved Jo too, but they had already decided that I was too far gone, that I had to be put down—like a dog. I gave them a chance; I stood stock still, waiting for Bobby and Ellen to make a choice.

Bobby hesitantly reached down and picked up the gun, to him I was just a wild animal, angry and unpredictable, going to attack at any given moment. Ellen was sobbing as Jo struggled to breathe, but before, Jo's struggling ended and her eyes went dark.

Ellen stood, the knife that had been imbedded in her daughter gaping backside, dripping with a scarlet liquid, the pungent aroma wafting through the room, Jo's blood. Ellen's face would have sent the staunchest and bloodthirsty monster running.

She hesitated for only a moment, just long enough to ask a single question, "why?" before she lunged forward, intent on destroying the only thing she had left to blame, me.

I didn't even think about it; I snapped her neck, without moving a single muscle. Bobby's mouth dropped open wide in shock. I turned to look at him before Ellen's body had even had time to drop. I stared at him, questioningly, as the corpse fell with a thump to the ground. Blank eyes were staring out into oblivion, still searching for the answer to her last words.

Bobby lifted the Colt and leveled it right between my eyes. He honestly thought that pea-shooter could stop _me_?

I prayed to God—well, I suppose I wasn't really praying to _God_, per se, he had already made it clear that _He_ wasn't rooting for me anymore, if he ever did to start, what with the attempted smiting by Uriel that started this whole mess. I prayed to, well, to whoever would listen, that Bobby would not try and fight me.

Apparently, no one did listen to my silent pleas; Bobby cocked his gun, pulling back the hammer.

"Boy, this won't solve anything, killing me, here." I was not even listening to the words spilling out of his mouth, I just stood there, Ellen's remains were lying on her side, it was funny, she still looked just as serious and stern as a rotting cadaver as she did as a living thing, Jo, laying behind me, dead eyes staring blankly into space, you could almost imagine she was just deep in thought—if not for the pool of blood surrounding her—and then there was Bobby, standing a few feet in front of me, a gun raised, aiming for the space right between my eyes, he was begging me—for what, I didn't know. It could have been for his life, or maybe, like Ellen, he wanted to just know the answer to the single question, "why?"

He would not understand, _could not_ understand, none of them. Hell, God probably didn't understand.

"I just want to find my brother, Bobby." Bobby stopped talking, mid-sentence, mouth wide-open again. Tears started to cascade down his face and into his scruffy beard again.

"No. Sam, I won't," he choked. It was the first time he had called me by my name in a long time. Since we ended up on opposing sides, I had become "boy" or "idjit". Maybe there was hope for finding Dean, now.

"Please, Bobby." I was begging him and I knew he could hear the devastation in my voice.

"And what if I don't, boy?" Bobby was attempting to hid the anguish in his voice by disguising it in gruffness, "ya' gonna kill me, too?" His question was met with silence for a few moments before I answered.

"I don't want to hurt you, Bobby." For a minute, I think Bobby was seeing the six-year-old me, a little boy who just wants someone's attention, who just wants to be held, and Bobby almost gave in to my request.

"I think Ellen, Jo, and Cas' would disagree with that."

"Bobby, please—"

"Sam, go, just go," Bobby fell on his knees, the Colt dropping to the floor, tears gushing down his face and vanishing in his gray-speckled beard like a fountain, "let me be, Sammy. Let your brother be." Bobby was staring at the ground in front of my feet.

"Its Sam, you're not allowed to call me Sammy." I left without another word. Bobby was not going to tell me where to find Dean and I knew if I stayed any longer I might hurt him.

I continued my search, asking hunters and old friends for help. No one would help me; they only tried to hurt me. And so I killed them. There were so few left, and I killed them.

What was left of the hunters fled, gave up, realized that humanity was nothing more than a lost cause. Now they were hiding, in caves, forests, hidden nooks and crannies, the very places the fiends they used to hunt had lived.

And now I'm here. The remnants of a now nameless metropolis surrounding me. Corpses on the pavement, the sidewalks crimson with blood, a dying sun glaring down without any warmth, broken, empty windows staring down at the carnage before it, all of it was a testimony to the wickedness and power that had ravaged it.

But I _will_ find him. He'll understand. He always understood. He'll help me, he'll protect, just like he promised. He made a promise. He promised _me._

_He promised._

_

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_**A/N: So, what did you think? Was it a decent Dark!Sam story? I've got super awesome, awful (in a good way), painful, destructive, and quite possibly explosive ending planned out. This should only be a two or three chapter thing though... But its still plenty of time for me to cause plenty of pain and misery to engulf the world of Supernatural, right? Well, I started with a few one-shots and I seem to be slowly working my way up on the proverbial story-length ladder of fanfiction. Maybe, eventually, we might get more than a two or three shot? Feed back is greatly appreciated!**

**Until Next Time,**

**The Grey Phantom  
**


	2. No Good Deed

**A/N: So this chapter did not turn out as well as I thought it would. I just could not seem to get it right, but oh well, here is what I've got... The third and final chapter of this story is already written, I'll have you know, but I have to type it up, its stuck in a notebook at the moment. Unfortunately, I'm extremely lazy and probably won't get to doing it for a while... and I want to see how many reviews I can rack up first... lol... Anyways, enjoy this, my friends, though it really could have been better...**

**Disclaimer:**** So, Christmas and my birthday AND a trip to Disneyland have all happened, but I still have not received any large packages that may or may not contain the entire cult-level television show known as Supernatural, so it still doesn't belong to me... but Valentine's Day is coming up, so there is hope... Dean and Sam would probably be very grateful for my lack of ownership i****f they had any idea what I plan for them without the help of big-wig Hollywood producers...**

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Innocent Massacre

Part 2: No Good Deed

by The Grey Phantom

"Dean!" Sam yelled at the top of his lungs, held helplessly up against the wall by an unseen force. Dean was currently struggling against the iron-hand slowly raising him off the ground by the neck. Dean was holding tight to the man's arm, attempting to relieve some of the intense pressure on his neck.

Sam tried to fight against the hold the demon had on him when the re-headed, possessed, man slowly turned his head to stare at Sam, a sick smile on his—its—face.

"Aww, does poor little Sammy want me to stop?" The demon snickered maliciously and turned back to look down on Dean, who was slowly turning blue. "But, little Dean here, he isn't done with his sentence, yet. Something about a deal for his soul, someone let him off early. I'm just helping him get back on track." The demon's voice, had you not understood the context, sounded like he thought he really was helping Dean, aside from the strangling he was currently attempting to complete.

"No, stop it! Leave him alone!" Sam kept trying to lift his head from the wall only to have it slammed back by the same invisible force holding him up there.

The demon sighed, "you just can't wait you're turn, can you?" Words kept flowing out of the monster's mouth, but Sam could not hear them anymore. The only thing Sam could see was his brother fall conscious, the only thing he could hear was the last few gasps before Dean quieted.

An intense pressure started to build up behind Sam's eyes. He looked to the side and stared at the demon, "no," he said commandingly. Focusing on the demon inside the man, Sam started to pull at it. The man dropped Dean and Sam fell from the wall as the demon gripped his host's throat.

Standing tall, Sam raised his arm towards the man in front of him. Black smoke began billowing from his mouth. Whereas months ago, right before Sam stopped using his abilities, the demons seemed to be slowly choked out of its host, now, the demon-smoke flowed out quickly. Once the demon had been completely out of the man, the host dropped, the body already dead.

"I said to stop," Sam glared at the smoke still roiling and boiling in front of him. Sam's fingers, seemingly of their own accord, started to flex themselves, causing the demon in front of him to shrink into a much smaller, convulsing, ball of smoke. Sam, without thinking, pulled his hand into a fist and the monster that had tried to kill his brother seemed to be sucked into a single tiny point in space and then vanished completely.

Sam stared down at his hand in shock, his brain had been telling his hand to thrust the demon back into Hell, but his hand and powers had seemed to have other ideas.

Realization struck Sam, _Dean!_, he thought. Running over to his fallen brother, Sam tried to feel for a pulse. Sam's heart was trying to beat out of his chest when he could not find one when—yes, there it was. Dean's pulse was weak, but it meant he was still alive.

Thank God! He was! Sam stared down at the ugly bruises starting to form and surround his brother's neck, with disgust. Not only had Sam broken the promise he had made to Dean _again_, but he had nearly been too late.

"You're a stubborn mud-monkey, aren't you?" Sam whipped around to meet the nearly familiar voice. "The both of you are. You can't seem to live without each other, but you're always slowly killing each other in the process." It was Uriel. The angel clad in a huge black man's body slowly walked to the side of the room, looking out the single window at the sunrise coming over the purple mountains. "But I guess I shouldn't be surprised by any of your kind." The angel in a suit sounded tired, like he was near giving up all hope himself.

"I warned you. I gave you chance after chance to prove yourself, yet you still stubbornly refuse to listen." Uriel sighed as Sam sat still next to Dean's unconscious form, speechless. "We brought your brother back for a single reason, Sam."

Sam was about to interrupt Uriel, to defend himself, or Dean, just at the mere mention of the other Winchester, but Uriel held up a hand effectively silencing him.

"At first, I hated you _and_ your brother. You've been given the opportunity to—to feel so much," Uriel sounded like it was something he had longed for, for ages—or lost. "You can feel real happiness, real joy. And you throw that all away. For what? For someone who shares the same genetic and molecular makeup as you?" Uriel was incredulous at the very thought.

"You're brother was raised from Perdition so as to protect _you_. Not stop Lilith from breaking the sixty-six seals, not destroy Alistair, or any others of the demon hoard. That is _our_ job."

"Protect me? Protect me from what?" Sam had finally rediscovered his voice and it came out scratchy.

"Protect you from what Azazel did to you!" If Sam did not know any better, he would have thought Uriel was bi-polar, jumping from melancholy and disappointed one moment and then murderous and vengeful the next, all in such a short amount of time. "But apparently we chose wrong when we brought him back. Its funny, we had the hardest time choosing between him and John."

Sam remained silent, waiting for Uriel to elaborate. The giant of an angel stood still, still staring at the waxing sun. "No, you didn't choose wrong. Dean didn't deserve Hell." Sam whispered, leaving the faint implication hanging in the air.

"We didn't, hmmm?" Uriel turned to face Sam who was looking down at the ground. "Well, look at you," Uriel's face quirked up into a smile, "defending someone else for a change. But no," the smile dropped just as quickly, "he failed, Sam. Just take a look around you. It was one thing when you were simply exorcizing demons, but now, now you've gone too far. No man should have the power to completely end anyone's existence, Winchester."

Sam finally met Uriel's eyes, shame filling his own.

_Do you realize how far off the reservation you've gone? How far from human?_

_It's already gone too far, Sam!_

_ If I didn't know you, I would want to hunt you - and so would other hunters._

"What--" Sam hesitated as Uriel stared down at him with that piercing gaze that came with being an angel. "What about Dean?" Sam finished strongly, already accepting the smiting Uriel must have been working up to, he _was_ a specialist in that department.

"He failed, Sam. What do you think we'll do?" Uriel's vicious little smile returned.

"No, you-you can't! Dean doesn't deserve Hell!" Sam started panicking, "you can take me, I won't fight, but please, just leave Dean alone."

"I'm afraid its too late for that." Uriel was getting _way_ too much satisfaction from this.

"Please!" Sam was full-on kneeling, groveling, begging Uriel, desperation forcing his voice to crack.

"I'm sorry," Uriel murmured as he raised his hand toward Dean, and then leveled it with only two fingers directed at Dean. Sam watched wide-eyes as the same light he had come to associate with angelic exorcisms filled the room, blinding Sam at an excruciatingly slow pace as Sam was kneeling, shocked into self-inflicted paralysis.

The brightness dimmed and Sam's eyes slowly adjusted to the original light in the room. Uriel was still there, looking smug as he examined the "mud-monkey" across from him.

Confused, Sam looked down at himself; nothing seemed out of order, until it hit him.

_Dean!_

Sam whipped his head around toward Dean, or, at least, where Dean had been, unconscious, before. Now, only a slight differentiation in the dust covering the ground was evidence Dean had been there before at all.

"What did you do to him!" Sam jumped to his feet, screaming, the only feeling he had in him: rage. Sam knew, since the training he had done with Ruby, all that time ago, that this kind of fury was dangerous, for other people.

The intense pressure Sam had felt behind his eyes earlier returned ten-fold as he glared—that was an understatement—full-fledged samurai swords—not just daggers—at Uriel.

"You sick bastard! What the fuckin' hell did you do with him!?!" Sam's hands curled into iron fists that itched to hit something, preferably something big, black, and angelic.

"As I said, he's been dealt with. Anyways, do you think you answered your own question?" Whoever the sick bastard that said angels were cute, harp-playing, chubby cherubs really need his ass-kicked, or to meet this particular angel.

It hardly seemed possible, but Sam's anger intensified supremely, and with it, so did the pressure behind his eyes, except it spread until it engulfed his entire head and slowly started to work its way down his neck and through his shoulders.

"But now, onto the business at hand: an old fashioned smite and damning." The pain and intensity had worked its way through Sam's arms and down his legs, even his toes were tensing in pain.

Uriel raised his hand, slowly, making a dramatic display of his pleasure at Sam's expense. When Uriel's hand was raised and leveled at Sam and the pressure that had become flames was searing Sam's bones and it was nearly too much, Uriel's smirk fell, completely dropped, only to be replaced with the grief-filled look he wore when he had originally arrived.

"Sam, I'm sorry." He whispered as the intense light started spreading from his fingertips again.

"No," Sam had a sneer on his face, "you're not." The flames flying through Sam's body were finally recognized for what they were: power, the demon power that had been itching for release all his life. And they were going to finally get their release this morning.

"But you will be." Sam's words were cold and full of hate. Narrowing his eyes at Uriel, without even thinking about how he did it, Sam forced the light from Uriel's fingertips to vanish, vanquished by the darkness bubbling within Sam.

Shock and horror covered Uriel's face as he stared down at his out held appendage, turning it over and staring like it was a terrifying monster that could destroy him at any minute.

It was not the hand he should be worrying about.

The flaming darkness within Sam had subsided slightly, but quickly returned with an even greater vengeance, like flies to honey—starting with a few but then more coming drastically—and this, this Sam knew, was just as vile and disgusting. And he did not care. Not one bit.

The power that had lain dormant in his veins all his life felt disgusting, nauseating, corrupt, wicked, and absolutely the most wonderful thing he had ever felt, ever. The fire was still burning him from the inside-out and his head was being torn apart, slowly, but it was all worth it. Hell, the look on Uriel's face alone was worth the pain that would cripple any normal person.

It was time to finish this. Still in shock, Uriel did not even notice when Sam raised his own arm towards the angel. This time, instead of forcing Uriel to back down, Sam let the fire in his veins flow out through his hand.

Shadows cascaded out of Sam's outstretched fingers—no, they were not shadows, they were more like black lights, stretching out, or an anti-light, sucking in the surrounding color and vibrancy. The anti-light came slowly, almost like it was searching the area with individual tendrils, until they seemed to notice the angel nearby.

The shadows—anti-light—struck at Uriel. To some poet, somewhere, angel screams might be melodious and beautiful, while impossibly sad or maybe harsh and powerful, able to mite entire nations with its voice. Uriel's screams were neither; they were terrified screeches, as weak and pathetic as any regular human.

The shadows tore at Uriel, eating him alive. Eyes flashing and shining at different levels of brightness, Uriel—or Uriel's host—started to glow a brilliant white that warded off the darkness for a moment. The light seemed to be slowly moving upwards and out of Uriel's host body.

"You can't get away, you bastard, not after what you did." Sam sneered, the slight, twisted smile extremely out of place on his face. Sam twitched his hand slightly and the darkness permeating the room reared up and struck at the angelic light, devouring it alive.

After a few moments, Sam lowered his arm and the darkness receded, back into Sam's hand. The pressure and intensity receded also, but Sam could feel it, ever so slightly, waiting for Sam to use them again.

All that was left of Uriel was a torn open corpse. The blood from the body should have been pouring from the gaping tears in flesh; the cadaver was absent of any of it.

Smug contentedness and triumph coursed through Sam as he slowly turned around, hoping to find is brother lying there. He was not. Panic immediately set in, soon followed by despair.

_Oh God, he's gone. He's gone, oh God, he's gone!_

"Dean!" Sam screamed at the top of his lungs. "Dean! Dean!" Sam kept screaming his name, over and over, until he was hoarse. Gangly, long legs gave out from under Sam in front of the space Dean had been previously.

Sam collapsed completely, mentally and physically exhausted. Sam fainted, thinking: _Dean's gone again, because of me. _Sam lay unconscious, memories tormenting him.

------------

_"If you had just let me go in there, I could have ended it all." Sam whispered._

_"Sam, the only thing you would have ended was your life." Dean said walking over towards the bed his brother was currently brooding on._

_"You don't know that." Sam turned his head to look at Dean._

_"So what, you're just willing to sacrifice yourself, is that it?"_

_"Yeah," Sam said stubbornly, standing up, "yeah, you're damn right I am."_

_"Yeah, well, that's not gonna happen, not while I'm around."_

_------------_

_"Aren't you worried I'll turn into Max?" Sam asked, surprised._

_"No, 'cause you have one advantage he didn't." Dean was cocky as ever._

_"What?"_

_"Me. Nothing bad's gonna happen to you, not with me here."_

_------------_

_"The three of us, that's all we have. And its all I have," tears filled Dean's eyes as he tried to convince Sam, "and sometimes I feel like I'm barely holding it together, man. Without you or dad I'd--"_

_------------_

When Sam finally came to, it was sunset. _Now the both of you are gone._

"I don't think you have another get out of jail free card, Dean, it looks like we failed the angels' test."

Sam slowly stood up, eyes never leaving the space Dean had been in before.

"No! No! This is _not_ over. I won't let it!" Sam reached into the dark corner of his mind that Ruby had taught him to find whenever he needed her.

"Ruby!" he yelled out, fury forcing panic and fear to be placed in the back of his mind.

"Ya' know, cell phones still work when you're distressed." The possessed brain-dead patient that was Ruby strutted into the room.

"I don't want your smart-ass comments; I don't want your advice. I want you to tell me where Lilith is, now, Ruby." Sam was past negotiations of any kind, the only kind of talk he had left were orders.

"Well, someone's pissy," Ruby walked right up to Sam.

"Just tell me, now." Sam smashed the demon into the wall to his side.

"How the hell would I know? Calm _your_ ass down."

"Then do the damn ritual or spell or whatever it is that will tell me where she is, now." Ruby considered her situation for a moment; she had one extremely pissed off Winchester in desperate need of vengeance and no older brother there to talk him down.

"Alrighty, then, boy-wonder, just give me an hour."

"Half."

Forty-five minutes later, Ruby had a location.

"You're in luck, Sammy-boy, she's only a few towns over." As soon as Ruby had given him what he wanted, anger suddenly surged through him. The black hole that had closed up slowly since Dean's return opened up completely, threatening to engulf him entirely.

She called him Sammy, and she was fully aware only Dean was allowed to call him that.

The pressure behind Sam's eyes started building again, this time it was much quicker. The flames erupted and had soon spread to every inch of his body.

"Are you coming?" Ruby was standing next to the door." Sam! Ugh!" Grabbing Sam, Ruby proceeded to try and drag Sam out of the building; Sam would not budge.

"Don't touch me," Sam's voice was nearly inaudible.

"What was that? You know, Sammy, you need to just learn to suck it up. Shit like this is always happening to you guys on a regular basis, so deal with it and come on. It's not like this is the first time you or him has vanished."

Sam turned to look at the brunette demon attempting to drag him by the arm with another sneer on his face, the same sneer he had right before he had destroyed Uriel.

"No." Sam stretched his hand out, placing it right in front of Ruby's face. Confusion flitted across her features and then was quickly replaced by annoyance.

"No? What the hell do you think you are doing, Sammy?"  
The black tendrils slowly reached out, just like before, searching for the threat before striking. Ruby screamed, just like Uriel, just as pathetic and just as weak.

When the shadows retreated back into Sam, there was nothing left of Ruby or her comatose host.

"Don't call me Sammy."

----------------

Sam left, the feeling of fire in his bones lingering, the black pit swelling just a bit more. Soon, Sam had arrived at Lilith's current residence, smack in the middle of another peaceful, innocent suburb. Well, as innocent as any suburb can be when inhabited by demon-possessed humans.

Not even attempting to hide his presence from the hundreds of evil sons of bitches in the area, Sam climbed out of the driver's seat of the Impala, grateful for the ache in his legs from being cramped in the car—a welcome change from the familiar feeling of numbness Sam felt all over and had come to associate with a lack of Dean. The numb sensation had already engulfed Sam's entire being, the only other feeling left being the black void he felt growing in his stomach, a constant reminder of the carnage he was now capable of, that he had always been capable of.

Glancing around at the perfectly manicured lawns, white picket fences, and apple-pie life surrounding him, Sam frowned in disgust. This is what they had always worked so hard to protect? A bunch of pansy-ass, selfish bastards who could not stand to be pulled out of the little niche they had created for themselves for more than a few moments? So they could live their happy little lives without interruption and can tear each other down without the help of any supernatural nasties? These self-centered bitches probably deserved it anyway.

Hell, Dean was one of the few things keeping these monsters, these "regular" people, from falling down to the bottom of Sam's priority list. If Dean had not come back when he did, Sam would have just given up on saving individual people completely. But now Dean was gone again, and Sam was going to get him back, without any divine intervention this time.

Sam walked right up to the white door that he was sure Lilith was hiding behind and kicked it in without a second thought. Expecting some form of resistance, Sam entered the house cautiously, gripping the black pit in his stomach, ready to release it again at the sign of any attack. The midday sun illuminated the walls and tables, displaying hundreds of crucifixes, pictures of biblical events and people, and plenty of other religious paraphernalia.

The irony was completely lost on Sam as he slowly walked through the house. Sam had nearly made a complete roundabout through the place, finding nothing but a few faint traces of sulphur, and was about to move on to the second-story, when he noticed the little blonde girl with shoulder length hair sitting on the couch, facing away from him.

"I was wondering when you were gonna find me, silly goose." The sickly-sweet voice caused the hair on the back of Sam's neck to stand on end as he slowly made his way around the couch, staring at the back of the girl's head like it was a caged animal that might strike any second.

"Lilith." The dark greeting would have intimidated most men, especially when faced with a majorly pissed off Winchester, a Winchester with serious anger issues, demon blood coursing through his veins, and the ability to devour both angels and demons both, no less.

The blonde girl could not have been more than fifteen years old, a bright smile lit up her face. She could have been a pretty little thing, but the whole affect was ruined by the blood drenching the girl's blue dress and the blank white eyes signifying the demonic possession taking place.

"Who else would I be, Sammy-boy?" she said, whipping her head to look at Sam. "I've been waiting a long time for you to show up." To an innocent passerby, this may have looked like a cute little girl talking with a favorite uncle or cousin, when in reality it was a massive conflict between two major players in a seriously massive cosmic chess game.

"For what? To try and kill me, again?"

"No, silly, you're much to important for that," she laughed, even then, it sounded wrong, too cure, too innocent, "but what did _you_ come here for?" Lilith cocked her head to the side, truly curious as to Sam's motives.

"You still have Dean's contract, bitch, and I want him back, now." Surprise flashed on Lilith's face, but was gone, instantly replaced by the disgustingly sweet smile, just as quickly as it appeared.

"I don't get it, Sam, are you trying to make me a deal?" Sam grunted in affirmation.

"But what do you have to offer me? You know just as well as we dot that we might as well already have _your_ soul. What do I get?" Lilith sounded like a bratty little girl who had no intention of doing anything without getting equal or greater value in return.

Sam just glared for a moment before answering, "You can have me." Sam waited for Lilith's reaction. Receiving none, Sam continued, "you can have me, willing."

"Ah, now you've got me excited, Sammy."

"Will you did it?" Sam asked, the desperation in his voice not going unnoticed by the monster of a little girl in front of him.

"So you'll trade yourself willingly to our side in exchange for your brother's contract."

Sam narrowed his eyes, feeling the black pit start expanding again at Lilith's extension of the conversation more than it was necessary. "Yes," he spat out through clenched teeth.

Lilith bounded up off the couch and right in front of Sam. "It'll be nice to kiss you _willingly_ this time." Before he knew what was happening, Lilith's lips were pressed up against Sam's. The blonde, teenaged demon moaned, attempting to get Sam to participate in the kiss, but the only thing Sam noticed was the dark void inside him rearing up and flooding his entire system. Anger, guilt, grief, resentment, all of Sam's darker emotions were pulled directly to the front of his mind, overriding all other thoughts and feelings.

The darkness burned Sam from the inside-out, nearly becoming unbearable, when it suddenly stopped, along with Lilith.

"That wasn't so bad, was it, you little anti-Christ, you?" Lilith whispered.

"Where's Dean?" Sam asked, trying to analyze his thoughts and feeling for any changes. He could not find any—no, that wasn't entirely true. Now he felt…free…strong… Sam just felt amazing.

"I don't really know." Lilith replied innocently, "Depends on where his corpse ended up."

"We made a deal, Lilith, now where is he?" Sam was growling, uncontrolled rage expanding throughout his body like a forest fire.

"You made a deal for his contract, so you wouldn't have any worries about Dean in Hell. He's alive but we don't have him, Sammy. You can search for your brother, but in the mean time, we have a lot of work to do."

All the rage toward Lilith vanished, only slight annoyance remained.

"Let's go, then," Sam replied, "and _don't_ call me Sammy."

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**A/N: So, how was it? Decent? I'm really hoping so... The reviews I got on this were all loved and greatly appreciated, though I could always used some more! Anyways, I hope you enjoyed taking a look into how I made Sam go all evil and hope it is a bit of a new spin on it then everyone else seems to use. Reviews are still greatly appreciated and will probably get my lazy ass to type of the last chapter of this quite a bit sooner! And did anyone spot the intentional metaphor in there? Does anyone have any guesses as to how the next bit will play out?**

**Until Next Time,**

**The Grey Phantom  
**


	3. Twilight and Shadow

**A/N: So I'm an awful person who has put off typing up this story for somewhere around a year. Sorry! I had forgotten all about this lovely piece of SPN pain and misery. So, here is part three. . . but its more of teaser that leads into the final piece of this story. So there is still to come after this, its just a matter of time for me to type it up outta my notebook. As per the usual A/N tradition, SPN doesn't belong to me, yadda yadda yadda, and the titles for the chapters are song titles that I felt fit. So, yeah. . . I'll hurry and type the last piece up sometime (relatively) soon. Enjoy!**

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Innocent Massacre

Part 3: Twilight and Shadow

by the Grey Phantom

Fire. It engulfed everything. The dark flames from within me devoured everything in my path. And anything else that comes near me will meet the same end.

Dean. I was going to find him, soon. Very soon. It didn't matter the cost; I've already paid for it. Lilith said I was done, that she didn't need me anymore. She said I could look for Dean again. I only had to wait a few months before she let me go.

The deal didn't force me to do anything, but I did it all anyway. I was protecting him. They knew if I was leading a demon army, I could track them down and completely destroy anyone if they so much as spoke ill of Dean. I wouldn't just exorcise or send them back to Hell. I would wipe them out of existence entirely. After all, if they were just byproducts of human souls stuck in Hell, it isn't like they could die again.

When Lilith's lips had left mine and I had finally let the darkness consume me, it felt. . . awful, painful, the fire lancing through my body burned away every feeling. . . well, every feeling but the important ones. . . one. Dean. Everything was cold, dark, numb. Nothing existed anymore after that moment, only Dean did, and it was so liberating, so freeing. No longer did I care about trying to save each and every person I ran across. I didn't need to save them from the dark, from the evil. Humans were just weak and dependent creatures. Now I could finally see just how worthless they all were.

It was so simple, overthrowing humanity. I was surprised at how pathetic all of their resistance was. They fought with their guns and their bombs, and sometimes they thought they came close to winning when they completely destroyed the demonic hosts, but then the demons would just move onto another meat-suit. It was almost funny to watch. Humans would shoot the monsters stock full of lead, but they kept coming. They tried burning them completely torching the hosts alive. The demons would laugh in response. Their last response was to blow them up completely. They would celebrate a victory, a small one, with great guffaws of laughter and tears of relief. And then it would all change. A few eyes would turn charcoal black, their joy at winning turning into malicious smiles before they started shooting each other down until there was no one left.

Now there was almost no one left at all. Just small communities hiding in any nook, cranny, or dark crevice they could find. Waiting for me to find them.

There were only a few things Lilith had really needed me for. I was just the anti-Christ, an icon the demons rallied around and humanity came to fear. I opened Devil's Gates, all of them, every single one I could find at least. Hunters soon came to realize that not only were exorcisms horribly inefficient against the hoard of demons, but they only slowed down a demon for an extremely short time before it climbed out of the Pit, before it found another human puppet.

Once going to and from Hell became little more than a quick trek across the country, Lilith hardly had any need for me. She had tried to have me assassinated; I was hardly useful anymore. Each attempt failed miserably, and soon, after a few failures, Lilith realized her mistake and went into hiding. But I'll find her, too. But Dean comes first. Dean _always_ comes first. Always.

And that's why I'm here. I'm going to find him, him and Lilith. I look around me and see the very place where I thought I could have got my brother back seven months ago. That day, the sun was bright overhead, the presence of both artificial and natural beauty against the feelings of darkness, of hate that day made an ironic contrast. Now the scenery matched the mood. The once manicured lawns were now overgrown or dead, windows in cars and houses in the suburb were shattered and front doors were lying sideways partially on their hinges or completely busted in. White picket fences were fallen to the ground or stubbornly lay crooked, refusing to finally die. Sort of like me.

I knew exactly where I was going, straight to the single house with a door left standing. Walking across the cracked pavement, the broken windows of the upper story loomed over me. The cracked paint on the door and the overgrown ivy over the bricks of the building only added to the ominous feeling of the area just as the sun set below the mountains on the horizon.

The door burst inward as I walked towards it, leaving it in a heap on the grotesque floor. Sometimes it still amazes me, how my powers work. Sometimes they do what I want them to do without even engaging them, like they are almost a separate entity from myself.

I walked through the house, the pictures of a happy family still on the wall, crucifixes still standing on tables, hanging from walls, all in pristine condition, simply collecting dust. There was no one there. I continued my search until I found two doors. I knew Lilith was hiding behind one of them. I had sensed her in here the minute I had entered the dilapidated building. Someone else was here too, but it didn't matter. If they were here _with _Lilith they could die with her, and if not. . . well, let them rot. I didn't care. Don't care. . . haven't cared in a long time.

-SPN-

The creak of the stairs and a tiny amount of light from a crack in the door woke Dean from his far from peaceful slumber, hanging chained by the wrists to the metal pipe that ran the length of the gloomy basement. The constant pressure and feeling of being stretched by the chains around his arms and the shackles on his feet that bolted his hovering feet to a single spot, caused a never ending ache to reside in Dean's once-strong shoulders.

Groggily, Dean opened his eyes, looking for the source of the disturbance. The small amount of light in the otherwise pitch-black room vanished for a moment before being replaced by the dim illumination of a lamp. Dean's eyes adjusted slowly, staring at the human silhouette in front of him.

No, it couldn't be. No! It couldn't be him! Castiel said he was gone, that Uriel had smote him. Dean's mind refused to let him accept who it was in front of him, Sam.

"Dean?" The tiny voice was filled with relief, hope, and . . . was that fear? Dean's eyes finally adjusted to the awful light n the room, and there he saw him. It was Sam. Dean's little brother, in all his glory. His clothes were ratty and worn, almost as destroyed as Dean's, and Dean had lived through the past few weeks since his capture with little more than torturous demons for company. His hair was long, too long, way too long for Dean's liking. It looked like Sam had not cut it since the angel's performed their little trick.

_He probably hasn't,_ thought Dean. Finally realizing Sam had been waiting for him to respond, as if he was afraid his big brother would vanish if he made any sudden movement or said anything more, Dean spoke, "Its me, Sammy. Thank God, you're here now." Sam rushed forward and wrapped his arms around his brother, who was currently hoisted up so he was a few feet taller than Sam. The temporarily shorter Winchester closed his eyes and let out a relieved sigh. "As much as I prefer being the taller _and_ more handsome brother, think you could get me down now?"

The reaction from Sam was instantaneous. He jumped back and surveyed the chains holding Dean to the ceiling pipe and floor, floating in the middle of the room. "There's probably a crowbar or something for you to-"

Dean was cut off by the screech of metal being destroyed before he fell right into Sam's outstretched arms. "How—" Dean started to ask before looking up at his brother and saw the retreating yellow glare in his eyes slowly dissipate. Dean's harsh breathing hitched as realization dawned on him. His powers, it was Sam's powers that broke him free. The very thing Sam was going to be destroyed by Angels for.

Dean thrashed and turned, attempting to escape his little brother's iron grip. "Shh… its okay. I've got ya'. Let me save _you_ this time. What's else is family for?" Sam's attempts at comforting a torn and beaten brother only caused Dean to fight harder.

"No, Sam. Please." Dean was begging, his voice soft as it cracked, "Put me down." Once again, Sam's response was immediate, slowly placing Dean on the dirt covered cement.

The bruised and beaten skin screamed when Dean's weight was pressed on his side; he bit down a cry.

"Dean?" Sam whispered, bending down to lay a hand on Dean's shoulder.

"Don't touch me, Sam." Dean was whispering too, but it came out more like a wheeze. This was still Sammy, somehow. Somewhere in there was the innocent, sensitive, little boy that had always been his brother. The same little brother who he had almost gotten killed by a Shtriga when he was still oblivious to the supernatural world, the same Sammy who had given him a simple pendant for Christmas instead of giving it to his father, this was the same little boy who ripped himself apart when he could not save every innocent bystander. It was still him, wasn't it?

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**A/N: The end is on its way sometime sorta soon! . . .btw, I've just come to realize how terribly written this whole thing is, so I apologize! I'll make it up to you by typing up the end, yes?**

Until Next Time,

The Grey Phantom


End file.
